


Put Together

by mildly_obsessed



Series: Puzzle Pieces [2]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: 1x04 Missing Scene, Always Has Been, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oliver is Weak to Connor, Oliver's POV, One of the Many, Panic Attacks, always will be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 04:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2534366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mildly_obsessed/pseuds/mildly_obsessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Looking through the peephole and seeing Connor there is like a punch to the gut; there’s this sinking feeling, some scab on his heart that cracks and starts bleeding all over again. He hits his head gently on the door, silently sending up a prayer that maybe this is one of his “I’m Too Desperate, Lord Help Me,” dreams, but he knows that he won’t be that lucky.</p><p>*<br/>"Scatter," from Oliver's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put Together

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to do a little continuation of my 1.04 missing scene, this time from Oliver's side of things. Hope it's alright!

Oliver can’t fucking believe this.

Looking through the peephole and seeing Connor there is like a punch to the gut; there’s this sinking feeling, some scab on his heart that cracks and starts bleeding all over again. He hits his head gently on the door, silently sending up a prayer that maybe this is one of his “I’m Too Desperate, Lord Help Me,” dreams, but he knows that he won’t be that lucky.

He hesitates reaching for the handle, but when the banging starts up again, he realizes that Connor isn’t giving him much choice between opening the door or waking up everybody on his floor.

The Connor that he opens the door to is a far cry from any version of Connor he’s ever seen. Scratch that, Oliver hasn’t seen anyone look as fucked up as Connor does right now ever since that time in his freshman year of college when his roommate had a cocaine-induced panic attack.

Which may actually be what’s happening with Connor right now, even if he’s denying it, saying that he wishes he were on drugs. The smell of smoke and something else foul but unidentifiable clings to Connor’s clothes, and Oliver can’t figure out for the life of him what the hell could have the words “I screwed up, I screwed up so bad,” spewing out of him like he can’t stop himself from saying them.

He’s a broken record while he’s breaking down, and Oliver is stunned into disbelief, feeling like maybe he really is dreaming.

It’s when Connor slides to the floor that Oliver shakes himself out of the half-stupor he’s in, kneeling down to touch Connor’s shoulder gently, not quite knowing if physical touch is welcome or if Connor will even notice. It seems to be the latter, with Connor staring aimlessly at his knees while he hyperventilates.

He’s having a panic attack, no doubt about it.

Oliver knows how to deal with this - after that first attack his roommate had, he’d researched panic disorders just in case it ever happened again. Oliver doesn’t like feeling helpless, and at that time he’d felt exactly that to the nth degree.

So he tells Connor gently, “Hey, you’ll be alright, just count with me, try to breath a little slower, okay? One. Two. Three,” and he continues on to five, then repeats the series of numbers backwards. Connor starts trying to count with him, at least, so Oliver counts it as a win. When Connor’s breathing is slightly less hysterical, Oliver pulls him up to get them out of the hall so no one else will see Connor freaking out like this.

He takes him to the couch, and Connor plops onto it and grabs onto Oliver’s hands like they’re the only things keeping him on the ground. Oliver kneels in front of him, and continues to try to get him to slow his breathing down.

An eternity and two very asleep hands later, Connor calms down and leans into Oliver, who can’t help but let him sit there and sob gently into his shoulder.

Oliver doesn’t have to dig deep to find it in him to keep comforting Connor through all of it.

“Shh, Connor, you’re going to be fine, alright? Deep breaths, okay, come on…”

“I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do, I screwed up, I screwed up, Oliver, so bad, so, _so_ bad…”

Oliver sighs, wishes he could get one of his hands out of Connor’s death grip so he could brush Connor’s filthy, sweaty bangs out of his eyes and get him to look up.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Oliver says, trying to get Connor to focus on something other than whatever’s on replay in his head. “Whatever it is, it’s alright. You’ll be alright."

Which was apparently both the right and wrong thing to say, because Connor hiccups and tears roll down his face, but his breathing and the panic are gone with it, as if it was somehow relieving to hear it.

“I won’t be, I really, _really_ won’t be,” Connor mutters, but Oliver can tell he’s at least now at a point where he can start taking care of him, getting him cleaned up and into bed, maybe.

He never thought he’d let Connor back into his home, his shower, his bed, his _life_ ever again, but here he is - helpless as he hates to be, but always weak to Connor - doing exactly all of that.

He slowly gets Connor cleaned up, nothing sexual in the way he gets him naked and gently scrubs him down. Even still, he’s missed Connor’s body, and can’t help but get a little frustrated at how well he seems to remember every detail, every little mole and freckle that he’d felt beneath his mouth and fingertips all those times they were together.

He dries him off, hustles him into clean clothes and tucks him into bed. Connor snuggles down into it, and Oliver is ready to leave him there and go figure out what the fuck he’s going to do about all of this, try to sort it in his head, when Connor whispers out that he’s missed him and begs him to stay.

Oliver doesn’t know what to say to him. There are so many things he _wants_ to say, but none of those things are appropriate. He’s still angry, still hurt, even though he would have sworn that he’d moved on. He’d known what kind of guy Connor is, after all, but the hope that maybe _this one_ would be different had still lingered, because Oliver was more desperate and lonely than he cared to admit, even to himself.

Still, he can’t help himself as he smoothes a hand across Connor’s mildly feverish forehead, and gives into the request.

He reaches for his phone and calls in sick, gets permission to do some work from home when he’s feeling up to it. Since he’s one of those stickler employees that’s come to work sick and actually been sent home before, nobody questions his staying home.

When he finishes the call, he looks down at Connor, passed out in his bed but far from relaxed, and thinks to himself, _Where the fuck are we supposed to go from here?_

Connor has made it clear on more than one occasion that relationships are something he just doesn’t _do_ , and Oliver gets it - commitment issues in people he’s interested in are nothing new to him (unfortunately). But a relationship is exactly what Oliver wants, and he knows it’s pointless to try to coax Connor into one with him.

He runs his finger’s through Connor’s hair, and Connor leans into the touch, snuffling a little in his fitful sleep.

He pulls his hand back, and muses for the millionth time about what would happen if Connor came to him wanting to be boyfriends. Because now...

Now, even if that’s what Connor asks him for, he’ll never know if Connor’s just sticking around, feeding him sex and affection as rewards for getting what he wants. Connor has shown that he has zero compunctions about using people to get whatever he needs, and to be real, Oliver has skills that Connor is _always_ going to need.

He can’t ever be certain that Connor’s there to stay for Oliver as Oliver, rather than for Oliver the IT Hacker Tool.

That fucked up trust is something that Oliver doesn’t really see a way out of. He knows that this, that Connor coming to him in his manic state, must mean _something_ , but for all he knows he might just be the only emotional support Connor’s had since he started law school. So, again, Oliver is a means to an end, a tool.

Something like hope stirs in his chest, because there _is_ an emotional connection, and maybe that could grow, right? Maybe Connor could really feel something for him, and they could start something real.

But he’s had this debate with himself before. He’s run through all the scenarios, and when it comes down to it, he just doesn’t know if he has it in him to trust someone like Connor, who, for all intents and purposes, is probably not a very good person. Oliver would just end up being too attached, too into Connor, only to be dropped like the metaphorical hot potato when someone else catches Connor’s eye.

Connor doesn’t seem like the type of guy who typically lets himself get very into people.

As mentioned: commitment issues.

Oliver sighs and rubs his eyes, gets up and leaves the bedroom for his computer to see if maybe he can at least get through some emails since he’s not going into work today… Which he couldn’t help but do, because even if Connor is an asshole, he’s an asshole that Oliver still cares about, and he can’t just leave him to wake up to an empty apartment, not with how distraught he was when he showed up.

He tries not to worry too much about what exactly has Connor so messed up, because it’s got to be something big. That type of breakdown isn’t something that’s caused by test stress or whatever, because, hell, Connor hadn’t even reacted like this to that guy’s suicide. Sure, he’d been disturbed by it, but nothing like the complete meltdown he had on Oliver’s doorstep.

He gets this sense of dread when he thinks about it. Maybe someone in Connor’s family died? But he’d kept repeating that he’d screwed up, over and over, and something like that couldn’t really be Connor’s fault, could it?

Oliver tries not to think of all the things he knows Connor is capable of, because if Connor didn’t freak out over the man who threw himself out the window, then whatever had him reacting like he did this morning has to be something really, _really_ not good.

Oliver’s not even sure he wants to ask.

But he knows, with every bone in his body that’s weak to Connor, that he’ll end up doing whatever he can to help.

He’s already broken the law a few times anyway, so what’re a few more things to add to the pile of shit he’s done for guys that don’t give a fuck about his feelings?

Might as well go big, or go home.

(Maybe he should just _go home_ , but he knows he won’t.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
>  [tumblr](http://sexinwithhoechlin.tumblr.com)


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